A Brighter Grey
by Elwing-Evenstar
Summary: What if a heart of primal evil could be reformed? A simple act of pity stirs up strange emotions in one thought to be beyond any help... [Very AU, NiennaxMelkor pairing. Takes place in the time of the Two Trees. Not yet complete.]
1. In Her Eyes: Melkor

**Disclaimer:** None of the characters or places are mine. They all belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.

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**In Her Eyes**

_Melkor_

I gave a muted grunt of pain as I landed hard on my tightly-bound wrists, and my hands struck unforgiving stone; I cursed the triumphant laughter of the one who had thrown me down. Ignoring the hot, metallic-tasting blood that oozed from my split lower lip, I glared furiously up into my younger brother's face. Manwë stared back down at me with sorrow glinting fleetingly in his pale blue eyes. But his countenance swiftly iced over as he spoke to me.

"Melkor," he began coolly, "you know why you have been brought here. Openly defying the works and will of Eru on more than one occasion… destroying the Lights of Arda… persisting in your evil ways even when you had been stopped…"

"Truly, what did you expect?" I growled under my breath, my eyes narrowing as images, memories of my triumphs, flashed one by one through my head. Manwë ignored me, or at least seemed to, and spoke to the thirteen others who stood in a silent, solemn ring around me. "Who now shall speak in Melkor's defense?"

No-one moved or replied for several moments, but presently a single figure stepped forth: Fui Nienna, the Lady of Mourning. She gazed long into my pain-contorted face, serenely meeting my smoldering red eyes and holding them steadily with her own tear-filled ones as she raised her voice to the assembly. I ignored the voice I heard with my ears, focusing instead on the words that tolled bell-like in my mind, as she revealed her inmost thoughts to me: _You are not who they believe you are; no, you are not all you have become._

With each soft, kind word, my blazing anger melted slowly to reeling confusion. My own unnerved, private thoughts hummed in my head, pounding against my ears like my heart against my ribs. _Does she truly pity me? She, and no-one else, sees something different in me… some ember of my former self, perhaps, overlaid and all but extinguished by ashes?_

But Manwë's voice jerked me back to concentrate on reality. "If no-one else will testify, then let Melkor's sentence be known."

This time the silence was nonexistent; everyone muttered agitatedly to everyone else, and pointed down at me in indiscreet bewilderment, but no-one spoke out loud. I stared up at them, scanning their faces for emotion; I noticed confusion in some eyes, and utter shock in most, particularly Manwë's. Fui was hushed, having spoken her piece, but she held her eyes on me. They were widened in shock, and I wondered vaguely what she was seeing. I soon heard her voice in answer.

_Your eyes, Melkor… they are no longer scarlet, but deep brown! Did you know of this?_

_Of course not! _I replied. _Why else would I wonder? _But her words pierced my awareness like briars' thorns. For almost as long as I had had a corporeal body, my eyes had been a deep shade of bloody crimson. What could have caused this sudden change?

"Never mind how it happened!" Námo's deep voice snapped from above me. "Is he to be sentenced, or not?"

Manwë hesitated; I held my breath. My gaze was fixed staunchly on his face as I wrestled with my own emotions. Could I possibly return to the ways of the Light? Did I even want to? Fui believed I could, she wanted me to…

_But what is she to you?_ something else growled in my heart. _Are her words suddenly the basis of your every decision?_

_No, _my first thoughts answered, _but perhaps if… if I could change, my kin might see me as a friend, a brother…_

_Is that what you truly want? To be accepted? Think of your priorities! Power is what you seek! You wish for dominion!_

I felt a strange irritation in my eyes as my mind and heart strove against each other. I was weeping, I soon realized – real _tears_ were dampening my skin. As my breaths emerged in weird, gasping sobs, I turned my gaze to Námo, willing him to see and know my spirit's turmoil. A single word escaped my faltering lips.

"Please…"

Námo folded his arms across his narrow chest like a great black bat drawing in his wings. Glowering down his hooked nose at me, he spoke my sentence as though he wished every word to be a dagger between my ribs. It was a cold knell that pealed through my writhing heart.

"Melkor, you shall be chained and held as a captive within my Halls for three Ages, and not a moment less. Absolutely no one is to aid you; none shall speak to you, save Manwë or myself." He nodded curtly to Oromë and Tulkas, who had first brought me here. "Take him away."

"_No!_"

The distressed cry came from Fui, who rushed forward to place herself willingly between Tulkas and Oromë and myself. She confronted Námo with tears tumbling down her face.

"Námo, please reconsider!" she begged. "Give him another chance to prove himself!"

"One chance is far more than sufficient," Námo told her coldly. "A sentence is a sentence – my words shall not be refuted." He glanced also at my brother with those words. To my would-be captors, he rumbled again, "_Take him away._"

I struggled uselessly against the viselike hands of my former kinsmen, as Námo held Fui back from me. She sobbed as she vainly tried to reach for me, and I for her. I called out to her with my thoughts. _Fear not for me! What harm can they do?_

_More than you know, Melkor,_ Fui wept in reply, even as she shrank and diminished from my sight. Blinded by my own bitter tears, I gave up fighting and let myself be dragged to Námo's keep.


	2. Secrecy and Sorrow: Nienna

**Secrecy and Sorrow**

_Nienna_

My bare feet made no din on the cold floor of my brother's halls as I rushed forth through the shadows, holding the hems of my cloak and skirt above my ankles so that they did not whisper over the stone and reveal me. My eyes were focused straight ahead, to the source of the faint, gravelly sobs I heard from some distance away.

The sounds of weeping, mingled with the dull clinking of chains, grew louder as I neared my destination. By the sickly light that filtered down from the few windows above me, I discerned the vague silhouette of the one I was searching for: a captive wretch, alone and uncared-for… except by me.

Melkor's head was bowed, but he lifted it slowly as I approached. A weak smile pulled at his cracked, bleeding lips, and he whispered into my mind. _Fui…_

_Hush,_ I murmured tenderly, slipping toward him and cupping his chin in my palm.

I saw his tear-filled brown eyes, and his skin, which was much fairer now than of late; it was not just due to an effect of the eerie light. The sable hue had started to fade to a much warmer tone, such as that of the other Valar's skin. His long tresses were still every bit as black as ever, falling over his uncovered shoulders in disheveled, grimy tangles.

The days had been unkind to him; I could nearly see his ribs protruding from beneath the muscles of his chest, and his all-but-naked, chain-wrapped body was abundantly pimpled with cold. He hung down from the wall somewhat, with his knees slightly bent and both hands held above his head, fettered to the stone with cruel iron half-rings. His wrists were badly chafed, and crusted with dried blood.

_You should not have come,_ Melkor told me insistently, tears slipping down his gaunt face. _Námo will know… he will be furious._

_I am willing to risk that, _I answered resolutely. _You do not deserve this._

_Your pity is what I do not deserve. _My kinsman's voice was listless. _You cannot free me. Only Aulë holds the key to unfasten these chains._

_I can discuss this with Námo and Manwë, _I reassured him. _Perhaps a second appeal shall end with your freedom. There is still hope for you._

_If there is, I do not see it, _Melkor sighed despairingly, his head hanging and falling from my hand. His sunken eyes drooped shut, and I flinched in concern, but he opened one eye halfway and gave me an attempt at a smile. Sighing, I moved slightly closer and wrapped my arms around his chest, hoping to offer him at least a little warmth from my own body. I could feel his heart beating softly against mine as we stood together in silence; my head rested on his shoulder, and we stared quietly into each other's faces.

_Why are you doing this? _Melkor asked me uncertainly.

_To keep you warm, _I replied matter-of-factly. _And because I care about you, no matter if the others do or not. You **can** return to the Light, Melkor. I know it. You only need to try._

_I have been doing little else for weeks!_ he cried. _My past sins are like a burden of stone to my heart. I cannot move beneath their weight. I have tried to plead forgiveness from Eru, but the memory of my darkness haunts my soul, hinders my tongue and halts my prayers. _More tears dripped down his hollowed cheeks.

I lightly brushed my hand across his face, heedless of the droplets that coursed down my own skin. For a time we wept together, each of us decreasing our own sorrow by sharing it. But when at last breathlessness halted us, we began mental conversation again.

_I still do not understand, _Melkor said quietly. _Why do you pity me so?_

_Because I believe that there is a light buried inside every darkness, _I told him gently. _You are living proof of that. _My fingers traced his paled skin tenderly.

He stared at me in soundless confusion for a few seconds, and then whispered fearfully in reply, _And is there a darkness buried inside every light as well?_

I did not answer him right away. The question worried away at my heart, and I submitted to a chilling uncertainty. What if the answer was "yes"?

Melkor appeared to read my mind, and spoke up quickly. _Never mind that, Fui. You need not answer. _He stared intently into my eyes, and I immediately felt immensely comforted. His soft eyes glistened wetly, and I knew mine were doing the same. Smiling, I pulled my cloud-grey cloak from my shoulders and draped it over his.

_You cannot give me this! _Melkor protested. _Námo will see it, he will know you have been here._

_Then so be it. I will not allow you to suffer; if there is any way I can help you, I will take the risk._

Melkor's head abruptly jerked up, and his eyes widened in fear. _Someone is coming. Go, Fui! And take your cloak with you – please!_

I lingered near him for a moment as I reluctantly took the garment back. _I will come back as soon as I can. Please continue to ask for forgiveness from Eru, and from my brother. It may, in time, end well._

He nodded once, hurriedly. _I swear I will. Now go! _

Sharp footsteps were drawing rapidly nearer. We parted and shared one last, brief look, before I finally fled away to my own halls. I barely heard an echo of Námo's voice coldly addressing Melkor, and then the familiar ebony-colored ceiling, walls and columns of my dwelling greeted me.

Giving a soundless sigh, I donned my cloak again and wept alone in the darkness. With each tear that left my eyes, a vow echoed in my heart. I would do all I could to free Melkor, no matter how high the cost. I would never stop trying.


	3. Confrontations: Vairë

**Confrontations**

_Vairë_  
  
Click, clack, tick… The rhythmic sounds of my loom at work resonated pleasantly in my ears, like a heartbeat; much more agreeable than the scenario that was rapidly taking form in my latest tapestry. I shivered as visions and voices flooded into my mind, showing and telling me what to illustrate. A frown settled upon my lips as I pulled a stray tress of hair back from my face, then continued reluctantly to weave, watch and listen…

_My husband's voice cracked through the air like a whip as he stood forbiddingly in front of the subdued form of Melkor. "Look at me."_

Melkor wearily lifted his bowed head. "Yes, Námo?"

"Do not play coy with me, wretch! I know that someone was here with you before I came. It was Fui, was it not?"

"I do not know what you are talking of," the captive rejoined calmly. "No-one has been here but you and Vairë; you ordered it to be so."

"Cease these lies!" Námo snarled, his long fingers clenching into tight fists. "I know that Fui was here! I know you have spoken with her. The very air whispers of her presence in this chamber."

"Then why go through the trouble of asking me?" Melkor muttered under his breath, disdain plainly evident in his eyes. "Should you not be omniscient regardless of what your house has to say?"

Námo's mouth twisted in anger, and his right fist moved in a pale blur of speed. It caught Melkor hard on the cheek, forcing his head to the side and making him yell out in pain as dark crimson blood welled up from the wound.

I winced in unvoiced sympathy for Melkor even as I kept weaving. Námo had never been the type to resort to physical violence as a riposte to conflict – except in the most extreme of situations. This was nowhere near so severe as that. _What in Arda has come over him?_ I wondered as I worked.

_When Melkor looked back up at my husband, his entire countenance radiated repentance, and his voice shook audibly as he spoke. "Please, please, I only ask for your forgiveness, no more…"_

"Forgiveness?" Námo repeated icily. "Why should I grant you such?"

Melkor pulled in a deep breath. "Because you went blatantly against my brother's will in chaining me here. Manwë did not tell you to speak my sentence; he was hesitant, silent… he could have decided otherwise, had you given him the chance."

"He did order me to sentence you," Námo answered him icily, "just after Fui had spoken her piece. Do not assume that I misremember."

"Of course," Melkor nodded meekly, "but when you asked him again, Manwë did not say specifically that you were to sentence me. Thus some would say that you were not entirely fair or just as an arbitrator. Do you not agree?"

"Your punishment shall neither be gainsaid nor countered!" Námo roared in answer, his eyes flashing. "Do not presume to question my justice!"

I flinched as my husband's shout rang through our halls, reaching me even as I did not try to give any heed to it. I shot an irritated thought in his direction, not waiting for a reply as I refocused my attention on what was happening elsewhere.

_Melkor met Námo's gaze calmly, his eyes ardent and glittering. "I was neither presuming nor questioning your sense of fairness, Námo… I was challenging it." The captive's voice was uncannily calm._

"Then so be it." Námo's own voice dripped with acid. "You may hang there until you rot, for all I care about you!" He turned round on his heel, whirling away like a cloud of dark vapor in the wind.

I looked up from my newly-finished tapestry and spoke rather coldly to my husband as he rematerialized at my side. "I am quite sure that that was not entirely necessary. Melkor is already in grief; he does not need more of it. Also, may I ask precisely when you decided that violence was the best policy to exact justice?"

Námo's mouth tightened. "You pity him, do you?"

"Striking him added great insult to his injuries," I replied. "That was highly unneeded. As well, he did express a valid point. Manwë did not—"

"Silence!" my husband snarled, cutting me off. Then his voice became much lower, more mild, and he put a cold hand to my cheek. "This is all for the best… trust me."

I frowned uncertainly up at him. Námo gave me an odd smile, which I returned only half-heartedly. "Ae you certain of this? Is Melkor's internment truly the only option? We have all seen his sorrow. Why can you not grant him mercy? Just once, I wish for you to sense what it is like to have pity, to know grief. Imagine seeing the world through Fui's eyes, if only for a minute. Is that so much to ask?"

Námo did not answer; he simply gave me a withering stare and left in the same manner as he had arrived. Alone again, I shivered as the weight of what had just taken place rankled my heart. Although at the same time, I mused that it was nothing unexpected – Námo had always been cold and distant toward others… even me, his own wife.

I selected a skein of thread from a basket beside the loom and began to weave yet another tapestry, smiling faintly as an image came to my mind. With hope flickering in my heart, I wove steadily onward. Perhaps the darkness was not so bleak after all.


	4. An Unexpected Visitor: Melkor

**An Unexpected Visitor**

_Melkor_

I shuddered for the hundredth time that evening, shutting my eyes and waiting vainly for sleep to come to me. My expectations were not high. Irmo appeared to be neglecting me, as most of the other Valar were. It was no great shock that they all seemed so frightened of me. After all, I had been evil, once…

I had strove to demolish everything my fellow Ainur had worked so hard to create. Ihad marred the Music which had created Arda; when Eru appointed Manwë to be the King of the whole world, I had sought to usurp him. My heart had lusted after supreme authority and power, but now I was a mere prisoner, chained and alone… no, not fully alone. I had Fui.

Inwardly, I frowned at the thought of "having" Fui; that made her sound like something I could own. Of course she was not "mine", and had never been so. But time after time, she came to me in pity and sympathy, to offer all she could for the bettering of my ascent into the Light and the healing of my soul. Something about myself constantly drew her toward me… or was it _she_ drawing me to her? Did her feelings run deeper than just compassion? Did mine?

My awareness slipped, overwhelmed by emotions, plunging me into a feverish dimension of wild thoughts and jumbled half-dreams. Was I asleep or awake? All of my worries, my questions, my fears, flickered before my mind's eye like words written in ink upon a page of parchment.

_Will Námo have mercy for me? Will Manwë see his mistake in letting me be imprisoned? _What if Fui had been wrong about the Light she had sensed in me? What if I could not escape from the shadows within my heart? What if the Darkness reclaimed me forever?

And what if that was not such a terrible thing, to me?

"It will not be unless _you_ wish it so," whispered a voice.

A grey-robed shape shimmered into distinction before me. Two pale blue eyes met mine; I recognized Fui's first brother in a moment. What was the Dream-giver doing here? How had Námo not sensed him?

Irmo laughed softly. "You are dreaming me, Melkor. But you _must_ listen to me." His face grew grave. "The only one who can fight your shadow is _you,_ Melkor. Embrace the Light and you will realize the true extent of the Darkness; turn toward that Darkness, however, and your foe will be the Light… and those who are of the Light, including Fui."

I was silent as I considered this. Did I want all of the other Valar as my adversaries, to an even greater extent than they – _most_ of them, I corrected myself – were at present? Even my brother? Even Fui? What if I could not settle in one dimension? Was it possible that I could be lost between Light and Darkness, in some perilous twilight?

And what would become of the Maiar I had beguiled into my dark service, those who still saw me as Master? If I abandoned them for the light, if I succeeded, would they follow in my footsteps? Perhaps things could be better… there was hope…

_Hah! Hope,_ sneered a malevolent voice from somewhere else, _is only an illusion. You are putting your faith in a lie. This is not what you want. You desire to be King, do you not? Authority, power, honor and praise… all can be yours! You can be free of these chains; you can bind the ones who first bound you! The ones who **deserve** it, for treating you this way! You are no mere rat, to scurry around a filthy prison cell and feast on rubbish!_

"No," I whispered, not realizing at first that I was speaking aloud. "I am not a rat, but nor am I a king. I truly deserve to be punished for my actions. It was _justice_ that fettered me here, not malice. What I do not deserve is Fui's kindness."

"And yet, she gives it to you freely," Irmo spoke up quietly, still in my dream. "Her grace is her gift. It is all she can offer."

"Maybe," I agreed, "but I still have so many questions… I fear that if I act in one manner or another, Fui will either believe that I love her, or that I hate her. I am unsure of how I truly feel toward her. How do I keep myself from giving false messages? Should I simply ignore her affection, or only speak when I am first spoken to?"

Irmo shook his head. "Ignoring her would give a sense of rejection, just as being too bold would show that you wish for your relationship to deepen. Is that what you want of her?"

"I do not know _what_ I want of her," I replied wearily. "All I know is that I deserve to be in these chains, but I long for forgiveness. I have prayed to Eru and pleaded to Námo… I would beseech him on my knees if I were not shackled upright. He must know that!"

Irmo's slender shoulders sagged a little. "Námo knows much more than he ever reveals. I fear that we can only hope for the best. After all," he suddenly smiled, "it is always in the deepest darkness that the dimmest light shines brightly, and the stronger ones blaze even greater. Time shall show you."

The Dream-giver began to fade from my sight, calling faintly back to me as he vanished. "Be wary of the voices you hear in your mind – some will aid you, others will prove your downfall. Take care!" And he was gone in a grey haze.

I stared silently after him for a moment, before velvety, dreamless sleep overwhelmed me completely. The last thoughts I recalled having were, _Oh, Fui, I wish you knew how I feel. I wish **I** knew. Please, someone, anyone, help me…_


	5. Weeping: Nienna

**Weeping**

_Nienna_

_…help me…_

I stirred and came gradually awake as the faint plea drifted unbidden into my dreams. The voice was familiar, but I did not recognize its owner at once. Gazing around my darkened bedroom, I frowned as I pondered whose voice I could have heard. But I had little time to dwell upon that, for I had a task to carry out, as I had every day for many years. Stepping through the gloom, I fastened my cloak over my shoulders and hastened out to the Green Mound of Ezellohar, upon whose crown grew the Two Trees of Valinor.

As I walked between the star-strewn heavens and the light-dappled earth, I saw the green-clad figure of Yavanna approaching Ezellohar from another direction. She caught my eye and smiled, and I nodded my head in answer. We met near the bottom of the Mound, and walked up to its summit together in quiet conversation. Now the memory of the cry I had heard returned full-force.

"Yavanna," I began, "did you hear someone calling out for help this morning, perhaps as you were coming here, or a short while before?"

My kinswoman shook her head in puzzlement, her emerald eyes curious. "I did not. Why do you ask? Did _you_ hear something?"

I nodded. "I am not sure who cried out, but I am certain it was a male voice."

"How peculiar," Yavanna mused. "And you have no guesses as to who it was?"

I did not speak immediately. Now that she had mentioned it, I _did_ have at least one guess. If he had been speaking to me specifically, projecting his thoughts into my mind as I lay asleep… what if something ill had befallen him? Was he being hurt, tortured? Something worse? He _needed_ me, for whatever reason… me, and no other… but why?

"Fui?" Yavanna's voice, and her hand upon my shoulder, brought me mercifully back to the present. "We have our task to perform."

I blinked; we stood now at the roots of Telperion and Laurëlin, bathed in the silver tree's flickering radiance. Yavanna's questioning eyes were focused on me, but she nodded her head toward the Trees, as a reminder of what we were to do. Smiling in contrition, I knelt down on the grass and summoned thoughts of sorrow at the same time as Yavanna began to sing. Grieving was not difficult; even in this world's youth, so much evil had befallen us… most of it brought on by the one person I pitied most in the world at this time.

My eyes burned and my vision blurred as the tears sprang willingly up. I began to sob as thought after desolate thought poured through my mind. _Melkor destroyed the Lamps, the light of Middle-earth and Valinor alike… he twisted so many of the Children of Eru to his evil ways… and now, when he was convinced that he could be **good**, he has been chained in Námo's keep; and who knows how long it will be before his sentence is fulfilled?_

Shudders of angst racked my body as Yavanna's song surged up in a beautiful crescendo. I could hear the Trees growing above us: leaves unfurling, blossoms bursting open, fruits swelling. My tears drenched the earth, and were supped eagerly by the far-reaching roots, which seemed to quiver thirstily beneath me, drawing nourishment from my grief and my kinswoman's joy.

Singing and weeping, we offered what we could for the sake of Light, until lack of breath forced us to cease. We descended the Mound, satisfied with our work and assured that the Trees would shine unfailingly until our return upon the morrow. Yavanna and I bade each other good day and departed – she to her woods and gardens, I to my halls.

The warm dimness of my halls met me like a friend's embrace as I crossed the threshold. I softly passed the waiflike forms of my fellow mourners, and let their lamentations flow around and through me, each sigh like a rush of blood to my heart, each shivering tear as a droplet of life.

It was not quite contentment that I felt, but near enough, for how could one who spent her life in sorrow ever feel true happiness? Though there was always the hazy satisfaction of knowing that the pity and sympathy of one can bring hope to many… that the tears of my mourning comrades and I were, slowly but surely, cleansing Arda of at least some part of its darkness.

----

Laurëlin's fire-golden glow was just beginning to wane as I took leave of my halls for the second time that day, setting out south by east, toward the great mountains of Pelori. Ilmarin, the mansion of Manwë and Varda on top of the highest mountain, Taniquetil, was my destination.

I stopped and stood immobile for a moment, relaxing my body far more than would have been possible for anyone except the Ainur. In truth, as I allowed the tension to drain from my body, I allowed my body to drain from my spirit. My physical form slowly dissolved, and my true self, my unclothed soul, hovered indiscernibly and intangibly above the dew-sprinkled earth.

Freed from my corporeality, I floated up toward the summit of Taniquetil, glancing down as the world dropped out from under me. I noted, not without interest, the figure of an elf making his way laboriously up the sheer slopes of the mountain. I watched in concern lest he stumble and fall, but the climber was sure-footed and swift.

For a while I soared level with him, though many feet above him in the air. I recognized him as one of the Noldor, dark of hair and stern of glance. What he could want of Manwë and Varda I knew not, but it was none of my concern. I sped up, drawing ahead of the elf and slipping softly across Ilmarin's threshold, searching for Manwë.


	6. Gift of Light: Varda

**Gift of Light**

_Varda_

"My Lady," a soft female voice spoke up alongside of me, "Fui is here, in search of Lord Manwë. Shall I guide her hither?"

"Yes, thank you, Ilmarë." I smiled and nodded to my handmaiden, who bowed lowly and darted away. I sat still in my seat for a moment, then rose smoothly as Ilmarë re-entered the throne room with Fui at her side. The Mourner's deep blue eyes were quietly urgent, yet rather disheartened as she glanced at the chair at my left side: Manwë's throne, which now stood empty in his absence.

As Ilmarë bowed and departed a second time, I invited Fui to speak with a friendly nod. "What is troubling you?"

"Injustice," she replied, "which has been inflicted upon the undeserving. I trust you know of whom I speak."

"Melkor," I nodded, my heart icing over at the sound of that name. I seated myself again and clenched my pale fingers upon the arms of my throne. "You contend that he does not deserve his imprisonment? How came you by this judgment?"

"Come now," my kinswoman replied, with a mirthless laugh and a toss of her head. "You cannot tell me you have not heard his cries – you, who have the power to hear all voices upon the earth! Even I was woken this morning by a plea for help, from his mind! Melkor is not who he once was; he has changed, I am sure, for the better. I have known this since the day he was first sentenced. He is trying to return to the Light – the physical as well as the spiritual! If you were to speak with him—"

I cut her off gently with a raised hand.

"Firstly, I have indeed heard Melkor's pleas," I replied. "Secondly, how could you know for certain that he has changed? Such knowledge could only come from direct interaction with Melkor, which, as it happens, Námo has forbidden to all but himself and Manwë."

"I…" Fui began to speak, but faltered, her eyes dropping to stare at the floor as they grew noticeably moist.

"Thirdly," I went on, now smiling calmly, "Melkor certainly cannot return to the physical Light in his present state; the change must first occur entirely within. Indeed, as you hope for him to be unchained, Melkor must prove to you, to Námo, to Manwë, and most of all, to Eru, that he is worthy of it."

"I had thought that a second appeal could relieve the matter," said Fui softly, lifting her gaze again. "That is why I came here – to speak with Manwë regarding Námo's verdict."

"Indeed?" a benign male voice spoke up beside me. "My arrival was timely, then."

Fui and I both looked up at the blue-clothed figure who took form at my left, in a sudden howl of winds. I was immensely relieved to see that the newcomer was Manwë; Fui, too, gave an audible sigh. My husband smiled at both of us, and nodded warmly to Fui before speaking, at the same time as he stepped to the side to reveal the dark-haired, proud-faced elven figure who stood behind him.

"I present Curufin Atarinkë, son of Fëanáro Curufinwë, Prince of the Noldor of Aman," Manwë announced, as the elf dropped reverently to his knees before me. "He comes with an intent to speak with you, Varda."

I nodded, leaning forward a little to listen in interest as Curufin stood up and spoke.

"My Queen," he began humbly, "I come on behalf of my father. The message I bear is this: that he has been laboring long and sleeplessly on a means of keeping and preserving the radiance of Telperion and Laurëlin. He is shaping three jewels in which to capture the light, and he asks for your assistance in giving it to his gems."

A smile lit my face at the idea, and I stood up and spoke in answer. "Nothing would give me more pleasure than that, Curufin. If you would ask your father to show these jewels to me, I will gladly aid him."

"In the meantime," Manwë spoke up, moving toward his throne, "I will take counsel with Fui in regards to her concerns." He sat down slowly, and I stepped toward Curufin. The ellon bowed to me a second time, and led me where he would.

----

Fëanáro's kin welcomed me with undivided reverence. Curufin's mother and six brothers all fell prostrate at my feet, and more than one of them kissed the hem of my dress. They parted before me like water as Curufin led me down a lengthy, twisting hallway and to a heavy door, behind which must have been his father's smithy.

I waited in palpable interest as Curufin knocked. The door was flung wide almost straight away, by an ellon who bore such a likeness to Curufin that I knew he could be none other than Fëanáro himself. He dropped to the floor at once and kissed my gown as his kindred had, and at my nod he rose and stood aside to let me enter the chamber.

The shop was warm and dimly-lit, and full of a strange, thick odor that I could not name immediately. Against the far wall stood a long table, lit by a single lantern which gave off a faint golden glow. Fëanáro's eyes glittered strangely in the half-light as he strode forth, beckoning me to his side with a gloved hand.

I stared silently, intrigued, at what lay upon the table: surrounded by scrolls and sheets of parchment covered in writing and drawings, a mass of some clear, thick substance pulsed and quivered gently in a shallow basin of stone above a carefully-confined, bluish flame. Fëanáro smiled as he spoke for the first time.

"This is what the gems will be made of," he explained. "It is nearly complete, save for the key component: the lights of the Two Trees, to be mingled deep in their cores… _ah,_" he said quietly, his smile widening. For even before he had finished speaking, I had snapped my fingers and called two small ewers into existence, one in each hand: in my left I held an amount of the dew of Telperion; in my right was that of Laurëlin.

Fëanáro nodded to me, and I tipped both ewers over the basin of pulsing crystal. Streams of shining, silver and golden liquid tumbled down to splash gladly into the clear mixture, and lend their own light to it. The crystal substance absorbed it readily, and trapped those dews within itself while allowing the light to blaze forth.

Quickly Fëanáro removed the basin from the flame, setting it down on a flat disc of stone to let it cool. But before the cooling could happen completely, he plunged both his gloved hands into the dazzling, palpitating mass. He divided it into three separate smaller globes, and then stood back and waited.

After the soon-to-be jewels had cooled further, Fëanáro picked each one up in turn, and began to shape them with the utmost care and precision. He did not use a blade for fear of wasting any light or substance, but he gave the gems form with his own hands. They were perfect – many-faceted, they absorbed even what little light came from Fëanáro's lantern, and returned it in many splendid hues.

Fëanáro held the gems out to me in slightly-shaking hands, and I took them with a smile, holding them in my cupped palms as I spoke to him.

"These jewels hold the light of that which is pure and untainted," I said softly. "They are sacred; yet even I have not the authority to rightfully hallow them. That is for Manwë to perform. Come with me," I offered, "and we shall see your works made holy."


	7. Thread and Water: Melkor

**Thread and Water**

_Melkor_

I was pulled from an uneasy sleep by the sound of footsteps. Eyes half-open, I watched as Vairë quietly entered my chamber with a roll of fabric under her arm – her latest tapestry, no doubt. She moved to the wall adjacent to my left side, and as she unrolled her creation, an unexpected blaze of light dazzled me. I closed my eyes to mere slits, waiting for them to grow accustomed to the sudden brightness.

Vairë was gone by the time I had adjusted to the change in light. I craned my neck, trying to see what was giving off such a radiance. It was a section of Vairë's tapestry; I stared in quiet curiosity at the woven scene. Varda stood next to a dark-haired elven lord who held what seemed to be three large, perfectly-wrought diamonds in his gloved hands. But they could be no ordinary jewels, for they shone with their own wondrous multihued light.

What uncanny and beautiful things they were, to blaze with such glory even when merely replicated! I had seen a number of Vairë's tapestries depicting the Two Trees, and others which included lesser sources of light such as candles and lanterns. The Trees' luster was the only radiance so sanctified and pure that it caused Vairë's threads to become instilled with itself, to pour forth in illustrations that would never fade. These jewels, now, showed that same sacredness.

Staring silently into this new light, I felt a hot, powerful lust ignite within me. I wanted to own that beauty. I wanted one chance, just _one_, to prove that I too could create something lovely and wonderful… I was almost certain that I could, if only I had the opportunity. If I could make something that showed my goodness, perhaps I could prove my worthiness as part of the Light.

_And Fui will support you, _a voice murmured in my mind. _She is even now pleading with Manwë for your sake._

My heart seemed to twist inside my chest at the very thought of Fui. Everything about her that I had still not yet come to terms with now returned to plague my memory. Unsolved mysteries of my own heart and mind hummed through me, haunting me. Was it truly love I felt, or base lust? Both, maybe, each for a different thing? Would I soon have to choose between Fëanáro's jewels and—

_Melkor?_

Oh, her sweet, sweet voice… I heard it before I glimpsed her silhouette at the farthest end of my chamber. Fui shielded her eyes from the light of Vairë's tapestry with one hand as she made her way toward me. Once she was close enough, I could discern her expression, and what I saw surprised me: rather than a look of sorrow and pain, a hopeful smile lit up her features.

Greatly heartened, and more than a little confused, I smiled as Fui folded her arms gently around me, speaking in a voice laden with strange optimism that certainly did not suit her normal demeanor: _I have spoken with Manwë._ _He told me that he will summon Námo for a discussion, and treat with him for your sentence to be shortened._

I thought that my heart would beat its way out of my ribcage at those blessed words. My brother was fighting for me! The sweet flower of hope blossomed in my soul's dry, black earth. It was almost to good to be credible.

Fui casually waved a hand, and a clear glass bottle of some colorless liquid appeared; she held it firmly and pulled out the stopper. Tilting its open neck toward my lips, she spoke softly in warning. _This will taste quite salty; be wary of how much you drink at a time._

I let a small amount of the liquid pour into my mouth, grimacing as it stung my dry lips. I recognized the taste of saltwater, and looked at my kinswoman in bewilderment. Had she taken this from the sea?

Fui shook her head, smiling rather ruefully. _This, Melkor, is the end result of a full hour of weeping solely for you._

Awed, I stared from her face to the bottle of tears and back again, unable to utter a word. She was already risking so much, giving so much for my sake, and now to give her very life's fluid… she may as well have bled into the vial for an hour. I could not bring myself to receive nor decline such pure, unselfish generosity.

Fui nodded in understanding, but her voice, when she next spoke, held a quiet plea. _I ask that you accept this, Melkor; it is all that I have. Everything I can offer has already been given to you._

_I could not take it all,_ I protested. _Let us share it, if nothing else. I would like to give a toast: a toast to you, Fui Nienna. You alone have fought for me since the very beginning of this ordeal. You have given me far more than I can possibly repay. I thank you with my whole heart and mind._

Fui's eyes were clearly moist and her hand unsteady as she lifted the bottle to my mouth, and then to her own. Smiling once we both had swallowed, she nodded to me and spoke in answer.

_I, too, would like to give a toast,_ she said quietly. _To you, Melkor, for refusing to give up in your resolve to return to the Light. Your courage and resilience are extraordinary. I have prayed for your success every day since your captivity was begun._

_I could not have made it half as far without you,_ I insisted. _I believe that together we can overcome this shadow. Let us drink to friendship, and the hope of Light's renewal._

Fui nodded, echoing my words as a solitary tear slipped down her cheek. She caught it in the now half-empty bottle before lifting the vessel to my mouth again.

It was not the saltiness of the drink that caused me to choke involuntarily, and nor was it an unsuccessful swallow. What caused my heart to pound and my throat to seize was the sight of the tall, pale figure who stood a few feet behind Fui, one boot tapping irately on the stone floor, his arms folded across his narrow chest and his eyes piercing my soul like obsidian daggers.

"Well, well," Námo growled wolfishly, "what have we here?"


	8. A Brother's Judgment: Nienna

**A Brother's Judgment**

_Nienna_

The bottle slipped from my nerveless fingers and shattered on the floor, showering glass fragments and tears over my bare feet and Melkor's. I gasped in pain as I turned slowly to meet my elder brother's furious gaze. I began to speak, but my lips had only parted when his hand darted forward, and he seized my wrist in a grip like cold iron.

"I can explain everything!" I cried fearfully, struggling against him.

"That will not be necessary," Námo told me icily. "Fui Nienna, you know what Melkor's sentence was meant to be: _three Ages_ of _solitary_ confinement. I understand that you have spoken with Manwë, and have asked for this sentence to be lessened."

I nodded, knowing that it would be useless to attempt lying. But Námo was not finished. "You yourself have come here on more than one occasion to be with Melkor in these past weeks, in complete and open defiance of my verdict."

"Do not condemn her for that," Melkor shouted out urgently from behind me. "She came here at my bidding!"

My brother turned his impassive gaze to Melkor, who stared him staunchly down without so much as a flicker of hesitation; his deep brown eyes hardened to stone. They stood in a silent stalemate for several painful minutes, until Námo suddenly rounded on me again, the chilling intensity of his eyes making me flinch as much as the harshness of his voice.

"Do not lie to me, Fui, unless piquing my ire is what you desire to accomplish. Was it or was it not of your own devising to come into Melkor's presence for the sake of his well-being?"

I forced myself to meet his gaze. "It was my intention, as much as my own planning. I am here by my own choosing, not at the bidding of anyone else." I glanced briefly behind me and stared sadly into Melkor's anguished, pleading face, sending him a gentle but definite thought: _These have been my actions; now I must reap the consequences I have sown._

_Well spoken,_ Námo sent in reply. He addressed me aloud in a voice like ice. "Now you are obligated to come quietly."

"Come quietly?" I repeated in trepidation. "Where do you mean to take me?"

My brother's eyes were as dark and unfeeling as the heart of the Void. "Trust me that you will see soon enough."

A wave of hot indignation overwhelmed my fear, making my vision flare crimson for the briefest moment. "Námo Mandos, I have the right to be answered straightforwardly in all that I ask, and you _will not_ deny me that. Where do you mean to take me?"

Now my brother's face showed taut impatience, coupled with deep, burning ire. "I mean to take you into detention, back to your own halls – stop sniveling, they are near to here!" he snarled. "There you will share Melkor's punishment for as long as my verdict remains to be fulfilled. Although if I had my own way," he added, not wholly under his breath, "I would extend his sentence rather than reducing it."

"Then do so!" Melkor cried earnestly, straining against his chains as he strove to have his thoughts heard. "Release Fui, and let me carry out her sentence as well as my own!"

Námo turned to face him, a caustic sneer twisting his lips. He released my wrist (I gasped in pain as the blood rushed back into my hand), looking at Melkor's pitiful, hanging form and speaking in atypical flippancy. "How could you serve both sentences at once? Even a Vala cannot be in two places at the same time, unless of course one's body was hewn into halves – a frightfully gruesome procedure, I am sure. But instead of that, once three Ages have passed here, I highly doubt Tulkas would decline the opportunity to drag you across Aman…"

As Námo paused to allow all of this to sink in, I anxiously searched Melkor's face. In all the years I had known him, Melkor had been inclined to balk at the barest mention of the Wrestler's name. Now, however, I noted with nothing less than shock that my kinsman's brown eyes held not a trace of fear. What had come over him? Was it for the better or for the worse?

_Fear no longer binds me,_ Melkor sent, in answer to my unspoken query. _At long last, one foe is defeated; but many more still torment me, even as I speak._

_What foes?_ I asked fretfully, thinking of Námo and his callousness. I could not dare to meet my brother's eye when he next spoke.

"You are taking this surprisingly well," he remarked, his tone reverting back to the chill I had come to expect at all times. Perhaps I am being too lenient? It happens that Aulë has built a tower on the eastern shores of Aman, near to the elven harbor of Alqualondë. You will serve your sentence there, then," he told me.

I knew better than to argue; Melkor also seemed to be biting his tongue. I saw streams of tears pouring helplessly down his pale, hollowed cheeks, mingling with my own amid the glass shards on the floor. But my heart suddenly skipped as a thought occurred to me – I could not be imprisoned; I had a duty to perform each day with Yavanna! The Two Trees needed me!

Námo nodded as he read my thoughts. "Yes. I will accompany you to and from Ezellohar at the correct time. You are not to leave the tower for any other reason. Am I clear?"

"Yes," I murmured submissively, lowering my eyes to gaze at my glass-pierced, bloody feet. The pain returned in a surge at this inadvertent cue, and my stomach writhed in me. Námo's hand caught my shoulder almost tenderly, and he spoke at first with unexpected concern. "I will summon Estë for you…"

But his voice still held its honed edge: "…_after_ you are settled in"

"Very well," I sighed, risking a glance over my shoulder and noticing that Melkor's feet were just as badly-injured as mine. "But could she not come here first, to see to Melkor?"

It was a rash endeavor, I knew; but to my great shock and relief, my brother relented. "As you wish. But this is the only favor I will grant you – know that."

I thanked him gratefully, my eyes still upon Melkor. The light of the woven Silmarils was sprayed across his pale chest in a beautiful spectrum; the sight of it renewed my faltering hope. Thus heartened, I followed Námo without protest, out of his Halls and to my distant penitentiary.


End file.
